Page 52 of The Bitter Heir and the Beauty

“Ha ha,” she says dryly.

With Honey, I soften, want to smooth her rough edges and show her that not everything needs to be a battle for the survival of the fittest. It’s another thing I cannot explain when it comes to this woman.

“What?” she snaps.

I was staring, gazing at her. Her eyes are beautiful, but they’re not her daughter’s. Honey might come across as tough as nails on the outside, but beneath all the armor is pure sugar ... and I’d be a crazy liar if I said I didn’t want a taste.

I sweep the library door open and flick on the light.

The room stands empty with two large windows opposite the door.

“Before you say anything snide or smart—” I tap on my phone and show her digital renderings of the library I commissioned and plan to have built.

She tilts her head and then squints. “Is that a rolling ladder on the bookshelf?”

“Sure is.”

Honey Hamilton is a limited edition, a one-of-a-kind and I want her to have something all her own. After seeing the books on her shelves ruined from the storm, I had the idea to make this a place for her to escape ... and yes, that means her living here for as long as she wants—even though I’m heading back west soon.

She peeks at the design again. “Those chairs look comfortable.”

“Great for sitting and reading.”

She snorts a laugh. “Lucky you.”

The words I want to say stick on my tongue. I’d originally intended to use this town as a revenge plot. Emberly wanted to distance herself from this little backwater bayou. Getting the country club elites whispering about her connection to a place like this would take her down a few pegs. But Hogwash is an underdog and I want to see it succeed. With that came the urge to make the chateau Honey and Leonie’s home.

She rejects pity, but also generosity. Edging toward the door, she turns off the light, submerging us in darkness. Deprived of my sense of sight, less than an arm’s length away, she radiates warmth. Her honeysuckle scent fills my nose. My pulse gets messy and my thoughts turn foggy—not a single one is clear.

Time to walk it off. Breathe. Get my head on straight.

I sit down in the living room and sling my arm across the back of the couch, which has also doubled as my bed, but I fold up my sheets every morning.

Honey remains standing. “You said you’re leaving.”

“Duty calls. I have a short-term assignment back in Nevada. But I’ll supervise the renovations from there. Meanwhile, you’re welcome to stay.”

I don’t know what the future of my career looks like, but I’d be an idiot to turn down Leyton’s offer.

She cocks her hip and plants her hand on it. “If?—?”

“If what?” I ask.

“There’s a catch. You want me to do something in exchange.”

I tip my head from side to side. “Well, not exactly, though it would be great if you were my eyes on the ground. Not in a hands-on capacity. But since you’re familiar with the space—” I was going say she could oversee the workers, make sure they’re not slacking off on renovations but she interrupts.

“You have no idea.”

I pat the spot next to me. “Tell me.”

“It’s a long story.”

“My flight doesn’t leave until tomorrow.”

As if I twisted her arm instead of inviting her to join me on the leather piece of furniture, she stalks over and plops down, feet planted on the floor, elbows folded across her knees.

Silence threads between us.

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